


Surrender to the Heat

by madryn



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Demon Stiles Stilinski, Derek Feels, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Post Hale Fire, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, mentioned Kira/Malia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-22 18:32:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12488160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madryn/pseuds/madryn
Summary: Based off of a prompt.Derek Hale deserves better.Seriously, even Stiles could agree with that statement, and he was a demon who lived in Hell!





	Surrender to the Heat

**Author's Note:**

> Based loosely on [this](http://tsutomi-goshiki.tumblr.com/post/160441893957/youre-having-a-really-bad-day-and-look-up-and) prompt.
> 
> Unbeta’d, unedited. All mistakes are my own.

It was a terrible day, for lack of better words.

Derek was tired. He was tired and miserable and his guilt was an all-consuming factor of his life, at this point. The rain was sharp, harder than droplets of water had any right to be, and they cut sharply into the skin of his neck and his face and his hands: any skin not covered by his leather jacket was fair game. 

The jacket was Laura's. It hurt to think about.

He had been doing well, too. Helping Scott McCall by teaching him how to control his wolf took a lot of Derek's time, and a lot of his mind, too. But, Derek could no longer use Scott as an excuse - as a distraction. Derek could no longer distract himself from the fragile, inescapable truth of it all. 

And it hurt.

It hurt so, so much. Derek was barely twenty: he should still be living under the financial protection of his parents; should still be dealing with his two annoying, but wonderful siblings; should still be living with his alpha, his parent, his mother and best friend. Derek should be attending college, should be a blue-eyed beta with no worries except whether or not Cora was going to make a second attempt at eating Derek's pet bunny, Patroclus.

Instead, Derek was alone.

For all intents and purposes, Derek Hale was still just a boy. A boy who carried the guilt of murdering his family, of watching the only family he had thought he had left die at the hands of another, more greedy wolf. He carried the guilt of finding out that it was his uncle Peter who had murdered Laura, and of ripping the throat out of the last living family member he had left. He carried the guilt of being the Alpha. An alpha with too little knowledge and too much pain.

That led Derek to where he was now: curled above the small stone that marked Laura's grave. The rain pierced his skin and his eyes as he cried. He cried for the innocence Kate had stolen from him and the family he had allowed her to murder. He had been curled above the engraved stone for so long that Derek could no longer feel his legs, sunken as they were in the forest mud. He could not recognize whether he was shaking with sobs or from the cold, either.

Derek was touch-starved and drowning in guilt and he had no reason not to just lay down on the soggy ground and let it swallow him up.

It is not like Derek had anyone left that would care, did he?

Anyone that might have cared for Derek's feelings, he let die in the fire.

A gut-wrenching sob forced its way out of Derek's throat, and he was barely able to anchor his fingers into the mud before a deep, heartbroken howl erupted from his body. It was a howl of hurt and pain and misery and most of guilt, but he could no longer bottle up his feelings. It had all gotten to be too much for him to handle.

After all, he was a boy forced to grow up too quickly in the aftermath of a horrific ordeal.

It was too much in that moment. 

Derek got up on shakey, unstable legs and very nearly crawled to the front door of the Hale house - well, the burnt out shell that remained in its place. He fell against the front door and into the entryway; the walls were weakened and creaking in the storm, but the living room was still intact enough that water had only seeped into the corners of the massive room and the cold was held at bay. 

He fell upon the couch. It had been his abuela's favorite with his obnoxious floral pattern and fluffy cushions; now, though, it was blackened with soot and brown with dust, ripped with age and limp with the absense of stuffing.

He lay there, curled into a fetal position on his abuela's favorite couch, unable to sleep and haunted with the demons of his deeds swirling around his head like a swarm of wasps. 

It took a long while for his body to find sleep.

— • — • —

His body was stiff and so, too, was Laura's - his - jacket. His body hurt and his mind hurt and his wolf hurt and his soul hurt. Derek opened his eyes to the darkness of the too early morning and ignored the red tinge of his eyesight; thinking about how he was now an alpha would only hurt more.

Derek lay there for a long while, staring unseeingly at a crack in the ceiling.

"Please," he croaked, startling at the sound of his own voice, hoarse and deep in the aftermath of yesterday, "please, someone help me."

There was a shift in the air, palpable and stifling. Derek's wolf itched to be released as he stiffened, eyes bright red as his head whipped up and right. His senses took his attention to the farthest corner of the extensive room, where the light was unable to reach and the ceiling creaked with weight. The air seemed to fizzle in its existence, and Derek surged to unsteady feet, his claws and fangs extending.

He blinked and he missed the appearance of a figure; tall and lanky with the overwhelming stench of dark power and lavender. They were leaning against the furthest wall, face and distinguishables obscured in the darkness.

"Phew! Do you know how fast I had to apparate to get here in time? The angels tried to get to you first, and daaaaamn can those suckers move quick! I can almost feel the edges of exhaustion, I swear! Oh well, I won fair and square! So, back to business, you summoned me?" The lanky figure had moved out of the shadows and with a snap of his fingers had lit the candles decorating the room. Their eyes were amber and beautiful and tinged with red, moles decorating their face and trailing down their neck and undoubtedly farther. "Stiles, at your service! I'm a he, by the way. Son of the Devil and all that jazz."

Stiles, as the young man had said, was beautiful. He was dressed exquisitely; a long, furred black robe fell around his shoulders and trailed behind him, tight black pants and a long sleeve shirt underneath it. He was barefoot, too, but his fingers and toes, neck and ears were all adorned with rubies carved into roses and golden topazes carved into stars. A matching band sat upon his dark brown hair, framing the two red horns that sprouted from his head. Derek caught a glimpse of red wings, too, before the folded back underneath the man's robes. 

"What- what are you doing here? What do you mean by summoned?" Derek growled, his words slurred by the canines jutting from his mouth. He took a step back when Stiles stepped forward, but stopped when Stiles lifted his hands in a placating gesture. "Answer!"

"Alright, calm down, Derek! I've been waiting forever for you to finally ask for help, okay! Neither angels nor demons are allowed to get involved in a human's life until they explicitly ask for help. But, I've been watching you for a long time, Derek. I want to help you, okay? Hell, I'm a demon and even I can see that you deserve better! So, let me help, okay?"

"How can I trust you when I couldn't even trust my self?" Derek said, brokenly, feeling every bit the young man that he was. He was hurt and probably hallucinating and the cold had settled deep in his bones and he wanted help.

"I know- I know that it's hard, Derek. Let me help you, okay? There's an outpost near here, you know. Dad had one implanted in ever city a few centuries ago; it's a network for crossroads demons, usually. The business ones, yeah? But, Beacon Hills doesn't have a lot of traffic these days, so it's basically always empty. I have clothes there, too, so I can get out of my formal attire - ew - and get you something dry." Stiles spoke quickly and lengthily, meaning that Derek's mind, which was functioning slowly at the moment, only really caught half of what the demon had told him. Stiles looked expectant, however, so the werewolf found himself nodding along in agreement to whatever he had said. "Great! Let's go."

Within the span of a millisecond, they had left the Hale house and reappeared in front of a two-story house with a wraparound patio and a long cemented driveway. 

Derek bent over and emptied his stomach onto the aforementioned driveway without a second thought.

— • — • —

"I'm so sorry! Lydia always teleports around with her girlfriend Allison and Kira does the same with her girlfriend Malia, so I just assumed that it did not affect non-demons, oh my God. I really did not mean to make you sick, I swear!" Stiles rambled, hovering over where Derek was curled upon the couch in the living room and rubbing soft, warm circles in the werewolf's back. 

"I'm good, I think." Derek croaked, fighting the bile that still attempted to rise from his stomach. He did not fight the warmth that was seeping into him through Stiles's hand, though. 

"We should get you into a bath, big guy. Your clothes are still damp and it can't be very comfortable," the demon said, "I'll help you up the stairs, okay?"

Up close, Derek could see the sparks of red and gold that flittered between the strands of Stiles's hair, and he was startled to realize that they were like flickers of flames. As Stiles gently wrapped an arm around the werewolf's waist and allowed Derek to throw an arm over his shoulders, Derek was hit with want. He wanted this: he wanted someone he could count on to pick up the pieces when he broke and someone he count trust to take care of him. He took a deep breath, allowing the scent of lavender and something distinctly Stiles to wash over him. It was soothing, really.

Next thing he knew, Derek was being sat upon the closed toilet seat as Stiles reached out to turn on the water. 

Derek took it as a cue for him to strip, and he slowly disentangled his arms out of Laura's jacket and the long sleeve henley he was wearing underneath it, before starting on the skin-tight black skinny jeans that adorned his legs. He stood, shivering, in the middle of the bathroom clad in only his boxer-briefs as he watched as Stiles filled up the bath tub with steaming water.

"Do you want me to stay?" Stiles's soft voice broke the air of the bathroom, causing Derek to pause in his thoughts. 

Did he want Stiles to stay?

The answer was simple.

"Yeah," Derek whispered. 

"Let's get you warmed up then, huh?" The demon said gently, motioning Derek forward and towards the oversized tub. Derek nodded, and made an aborted motion towards the tub before realizing that Stiles probably expected him to rid himself of his underwear.

The thought probably would have led to a panic attack on any other given day, but Derek was tired and cold and numb and so all he did was slip out of his underwear and into the steaming water.

He closed his eyes as he sunk into the hot water, allowing his stiffened muscles to settle and relax.

"I'm going to wash your hair, okay?"

Derek hummed an affirmative, but still flinched when warm, long fingers weaved through his matted hair. Stiles made a soothing grumbling deep in his chest, causing Derek to relax back into the tub as Stiles lathered strawberry shampoo into the werewolf’s hair. The scent was pleasing and Derek found himself drifting in and out of consciousness as Stiles washed the dirt out of Derek’s hair and loofah’d his back and shoulders, massaging the tension out of his muscles. The wolf was pliant and comfortable in Stiles’s hands, allowing the demon to soothe the ache deep in the aforementioned’s bones.

The bath stayed heated and the water clean even though it should have long turned murky with dirt. If Derek had been more aware, he would have recognized the fact that Stiles regularly dipped his fingers into the tub and muttered a few words each time; he was a powerful spirit, even if he did not look it most of the time.

When Derek was sated and clean, Stiles pulled the plug at the bottom of the bath and helped Derek lift himself into sitting on the edge of the tub. His toes curled into the soft, heated mat as water droplets cascaded down his body. He was sleepy and disoriented and barely moved when Stiles wrapped the werewolf in thick, fluffy pink towels. The demon used a smaller towel to gently rub the wolf’s hair until it was no longer dripping and only sightly damp.

They slowly made their way down the hallway to a separate room, where Stiles sat Derek on the bed in order to rummage around for clothes in the closet and dressed. 

After getting Derek properly dressed in a pair of black sweats and a too-tight long-sleeve - “Sorry, dude. You have a lot of muscles that I can’t relate to!” - Stiles stripped out of his own clothes in order to change. He had earlier discarded his robe, and Derek finally had the chance to admire Stiles in his sinfully tight outfit.

Stiles quickly and methodically dressed himself in a pair of gray sweats and long-sleeve shirt, before throwing on a sweatshirt, and finally a red and gold plaid flannel. At Derek’s raised eyebrows, Stiles blushed, “I’m used to Hell, dude. It’s a lot colder than Hell up here.”

Derek was too tired and too relaxed to argue, so he just rolled his eyes and laid his head upon the pillow as he got comfortable on the large bed. He did snort, however, when Stiles took it upon himself to tuck Derek into a blanket burrito. 

“Uh, I guess I’ll be downstairs? So, yeah. Just let me know- woah!” Stiles yelped as Derek snuck a lightning quick hand out from under the thick covers to grab Stiles’s arm and drag him onto the bed. “Bad wolf!” 

“You’re warm,” Derek huffed, man-handling Stiles into proper big spoon position, allowing Derek to curve his back into Stiles’s warmth. The demon automatically threw an arm over Derek’s waist, splaying one large, bony hand over the werewolf’s chest and tucking his other arm close to his body. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m going to make you eat something when you wake up, you know.” Stiles snorted, tucking his head into the back of Derek’s neck and allowing his breaths to fan the other’s skin.

“Just go to sleep, Stiles.”

— • — • —

“So this is where Stiles snuck off to during monopoly.” Allison said, tilting her head to the side in thought as she and Lydia peaked inside the room at the sleeping boys, “he told us that he needed to pee!”

“Wait until John hears about the fact that Stiles went and got himself mated with a werewolf, out of anything,” Lydia snorted, linking her fingers with her girlfriend’s. 

“John will just be happy it wasn’t another selkie, Hell, I’m happy it wasn’t another selkie!”

“You’ve got that right, Ally. Let’s go tell the others what Stiles has been up to, though! I want to see Scott’s face when he realizes that the ‘annoying, insufferable werewolf’ is Stiles’s new boo.”

With a flash, the two girls had whisked out of the room, leaving the two young men asleep and alone.

 

FIN.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos & reviews are appreciated!
> 
> Also looking for prompts! I’m looking to write more Sterek fics, but I’m severely lacking in the original ideas department, lol! 
> 
> & I’m thinking about expanding on this AU if people enjoy it! So let me know <3


End file.
